


A Lighthouse Of Our Own

by EdilMayHampsen



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Not heavy on the comfort but still mostly fluff, but really hurt/a little more hurt/comfort, but still nothing sexual, no beta we hum like m'tendere, post-cannon (so far), so if that bothers you maybe skip on this!, spoilers for end of season 2, warning for innuendo and such
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:40:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27272806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdilMayHampsen/pseuds/EdilMayHampsen
Summary: This wretched city feels too familiar.It circles some well-populated star just to the left of solar. Skyscrapers climb so high, you could go days without putting your feet on real ground, especially in those clockless, artificially lit casinos. It smells like silk freshly singed with blaster fire. All of it is familiar, Peter at Juno’s side, the deep cut on Juno’s torso, the adrenaline acting as the only thing that keeps them both alive. Just another Tuesday.
Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel
Comments: 16
Kudos: 53





	A Lighthouse Of Our Own

**Author's Note:**

> TWs: Brief crossing and then reestablishing of boundaries, and physical harm (that's the hurt), and mentions of trauma/abandonment issues.
> 
> If you didn't read the tags (WHY? READ THE TAGS, PEOPLE) there is some innuendo.

This wretched city feels too familiar. 

It circles some well-populated star just to the left of solar. Skyscrapers climb so high, you could go days without putting your feet on real ground, especially in those clockless, artificially lit casinos. It smells like silk freshly singed with blaster fire. All of it is familiar, Peter at Juno’s side, the deep cut on Juno’s torso, the adrenaline acting as the only thing that keeps them both alive. Just another Tuesday. 

This city feels like Hyperion. But where Mars had a slow-poison, everything here is sharp. Like when they try to get off their feet, to  _ rest _ , the city will cut them.

“Stay with me, Juno. We’re almost there.” 

“I might not make it,” Juno laughs, head swimming with booze, bloodloss, and that buzz of what might be indulgence and might be whatever chemicals linger in the smokey air. 

“Don’t say that,” Nureyev insists. His tone is sharp, like everything else in this god-forsaken place.

Juno doesn’t respond, just lets his head lull onto Nureyev’s chest and sighs at the sight of a sloping, pale jaw, set in a frown. Peter’s eyes that look forward unyeildingly. Juno reminds himself again to keep pressure on his cut, because otherwise Nureyev will snap at him. Every third time Peter has to remind him to care for himself, Juno gets fixed with a look of disappointment, and Peter runs a hand down his cheek with a touch too gentle to bare, speaking in a tone soft and firm. Nureyev stops them by the a door labeled  _ 33. _

“MmmI gots- I got this-” Juno struggles against the arm Nureyev brackets his waist with, reaching for the keycard to their suite.

Nureyev pulls him back in, "What are you  _ doing _ you can't stand on your own."

"I'm letting us in, ther key card is-"

"Where's is it?"

"My back pocket why-haaaa, Handsy today, Nu-Michah.”

“In your dreams, maybe. I am getting the key.”

“Oh, boo.” 

Nureyev only sighs, swiping the door open and looking both ways down the hall before he guides Juno inside.

“ _ Nureyev _ ,” Juno groans as soon as the door shuts behind them. 

Peter glares, “I told you not to call me that name before I check for bugs. Sit, now.”   
  
Juno lets himself get placed on the bed, “Nureyev, you checked for bugs when we got here. We haven’t been  _ that _ suspicious, it’s not like they would come in while we were gone.” 

Peter doesn’t even grace him with another look from where he runs his fingers along the corners of the room. 

Juno lays back, “It’s just been a really shitty day.”

“I know, Juno.” 

“I feel like, like somebody reached into my body and tried to remove my liver- and I would know. I had a case once where-”   
  


“Please, Juno.”

“Yeah, I’ll spare you the details.”

“Thank you.” Nureyev sighs, and a bit of tension drips from his shoulders, finally tuning to let Juno see his face. He's still frowning, “No bugs. Feel free to call me whatever you want.”

“B-”

“That was not permission to insult me.” he add as an afterthought.

“I was going to call you beautiful but if you’d rather I didn’t…” 

That gets half a chuckle from Peter, “Save you breath. I’m going to get the first aid kit.”

“You could just let me die.” Juno Groans.   
  
“The alcohol doesn't sting that badly.”

“It does, though! Rita showed me this stream-”   
  


“Finish that sentence and I’ll tell Vespa you need another tetnis shot.”   
  
“I’ve had five this year. I’m pretty sure that’s illegal.”   
  
“Stop losing blood and we’ll talk about the law.”

Juno huffs, a laugh, and then winces. 

“Are you alright?”

“Fine,” Juno lies, “So fine I won’t need first aid, even.”

Nureyev only offers an eye roll in return, ignoring Juno’s complaints as he lays out alcohol and cotton and the things he’ll need to give impromptu stitches. He pulls Juno’s shirt away from the wound.

“‘Thought you said we weren’t doing that right now.” Juno teases.

“Hush, Darling.” 

“I will not-” Juno sucks in a breath as Peter gets started, “I wont  _ hush _ . Today was- Today was the  _ worst _ let me tell you-”

“Juno, really.”

“I should have seen them- If I had seen them this wouldn’t have happened. You wouldn’t have to- to do all this.”

“I can't sew you closed and stroke your ego at the same time.”

“You’re multi-talented, I’m sure you can figure it out.” Juno says offhand, “I need to work on my eye next time we train which is so  _ frustrating _ . How long do you think it’ll take for me to get patched up?”   
  


“You’ll have to ask Vespa.” 

“That’s fine. I’ll deal with it fine. It's just. I can't help but think Ramses won somehow. Like he still has say over me.”

“Ju-"

"Hah, I don't know what I'd do if I found out he still had a hold on me, honestly-

"Juno,” Nureyev says, and only then does Juno notice how white his fingers are, pinched tight around the medical supplies, hands shaking, “I  _ told _ you. I can’t do this.”

“Do what?”

“ _ This! _ ” Peter snaps, gesturing wide, “I can’t- I can’t- you think you’re the only one who’s stressed right now? The only one who’s bleeding? There are only two of us. The rest of the family are somewhere in the atmosphere and I can't call for help. I can't- can't just go to  _ Rita _ when you're being frustrating. So can you please limit what you're asking of me. Juno, I am so, so tired. I can only do so much. I just need… a little quiet, is all. Just for a few minutes,  _ please. _ Just let me work.”

“Peter, I didn’t know-”

“ _ Do not _ call me that name.” The sentence begins venomous, but by the end Peter's exhaustion shows.

Juno opens his mouth to respond, and then shuts it. He closes his eye too, inhaling as Nureyev pinches his skin together. He tries not to bite his tongue on the pain, and fails, a whimper sipping from his throat. 

Nureyev sighs and places one of Juno’s hands on his shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. He grounds himself with a breath when Juno’s nails start to dig into the fabric of his shirt, but continues his work, going as fast as he safely can. He pushes Juno’s shirt the rest of the way off to wrap his torso in bandages, breath falling on Juno’s ear as he passes the roll of fabric behind him and around. 

“Nureyev,” Juno breathes.

Peter smiles weakly, examining his handiwork before he pulls away. Juno feels no more sobered than before, having traded adrenaline for, well,  _ Nureyev _ . 

Peter discards his shirt quickly, and Juno finds no shame in watching as he examines himself in the mirror, pressing two fingers to where a stun-blast skimmed him, and hissing as he pulls them away. He covers the wound with concentrated aloe and covers it with a stick-on bandage. Nureyev is careful with the scar cream anywhere that might show which, with the kind of wardrobe Peter subscribes to, is a very many places. 

Eventually he sighs, turning to Juno and holding up the jar of ointment in defeat, “I have some scrapes on my back, if you would.”

Juno pushes himself to his feet, “They say scars are sexy, you know.”

“Maybe on you.”   
  
“Yeah well-  _ Nureyev _ .” 

Peter laughs, gently grasping Juno’s hand to press the jar into his upturned palm, before turning so he can only see Juno through the mirror, “It’s lower down, I hope you don’t mind.”

Juno snorts, “‘Course I don’t mind,” He mumbles, reaching to put the cream down on a nearby dresser. He brushes his palm over the curve of Nureyev’s shoulders. Peter sighs, relaxing into Juno’s touch, as Juno’s hands run flat over Peter’s shoulder blades, pressing lightly. “I like you just how you are, and how you want your body to be, but I wouldn’t mind a few scars.”

“I have a few. You’ve seen them.”

Juno warms the cream between his palms, “Have I now? Where?” 

Peter’s silent smirk has more meaning than words could.

“ _ No _ .” Juno gasps.

“This is the only scar cream I can find that works, and there are some places it isn’t safe to put it,” Nureyev laughs, tucking his chin self consciously. He runs his fingers over the twin lines under his chest, “And some scars I don’t want to hide.” 

Juno rubs the cream into Peter’s lower back, and Peter sighs again. “I don’t think you should hide  _ anything _ .” Juno breathes. He brushes Nureyev’s hair behind his ear. It falls right back into place, but Peter’s eyelashes flutter closed at the touch, and it feels like a tiny victory. “We should go to bed.” 

“No!” Nureyev exclaims, flinching away. He quickly tries to mollify the situation, turning to grab both of Juno’s tense hands in his own. “No. We- we’re filthy, we should bathe.   
  


“Nureyev-”   
  
“We could do it  _ together _ , it would be-”

“I know when you’re trying to distract me. Fool me once, and all.”

“Is...Is it working?” 

“You can tell me what’s wrong.” 

Peter pouts, standing from his perch before the mirror quickly, and tugging Juno towards the ensuite, “You’re right. We can’t bathe in these bandages, sponge bath it is.”

“As much as I would love that,” Juno says, pulling his wrist from Peter’s grasp, “I still think you’re not telling me something.”

“Juno.”

Juno puts two hands in the air, “Fine, fine. I won’t pressure you to talk. But eventually, okay? I’m starting to hate secrets.”

“Funny thing for a detective to say.”

“Depends on how you see it.” 

Peter doesn’t reply, instead stepping into the bathroom with a flick of his hip that’s more alluring than it needs to be. Juno follows dumby, and lets Peter run a warm, shallow bath, plucking unlabelled vials from the bathroom shelf and pouring them into the water until the room smells like- like  _ him _ . That unfamiliar perfume that filled Juno’s bed for weeks. He finds himself relaxing. It isn’t a bad memory anymore. 

Nureyev beckons him closer with a curled finger, and Juno can’t help but laugh, falling into a sigh as Nureyev rests his palm on Juno’s cheek. He lets his hand linger there while he stoops to the side slightly, wetting a washcloth. Peter swipes it down the length of Juno’s nose, making Juno smile, close-eyed. Peter is in no rush, planting a kiss onto Juno’s forehead after he cleans it, and then wiping the resulting lip-stick stain away. He does this a few times, until Juno is giggling and pressing him backwards by the chin.

He runs the cloth behind Juno’s ears, and loops his arms around Juno’s shoulders when he goes to clean the back of the neck. Juno opens his eye, then, staring into Peter’s. The moment is long. And warm. Nureyev blinks slowly, and leans in.

Juno turns his face away, and barks a laugh when Peter pouts. He keeps a grasp on Peter's hand as he reaches for a wash cloth of his own, squeezing as he pulls the inches away it takes to reach the bath water, just to say  _ I'm not going anywhere _ . 

Juno kisses the back of Peter's hand, and then wipes over his palm, between his fingers, and up the length of Peter's slender arm, planting dry kisses as he goes.

"Juno," Nureyev sighs. Juno smiles into his skin. 

He doesn't need to be as close as he gets to wash Peter's back, he  _ could _ just step around, but Juno doesn’t want to. He lets this chest press to Nureyev’s and his chin fall on Nureyev’s shoulder in a sort-of hug. Peter’s hands come to his hips.

"You alright, hun?"

"Hmm," Peter says.

"Can I do your face?"

"Sure, darling." Peter turns his head and presses a kiss to Juno's earlobe. "Just make sure to-"

"Swipe not scrub. I know. I'm  _ intimately  _ familiar with your exfoliation routine."

"I don't talk about it  _ that _ much, do I?"

"You do, and I love every moment of it. Talking to you is--Goddamn, your cheekbones."

"I've been told they're quite sharp. Do you find them appealing?"

"Oh shut up, Nureyev. You're just fishing for compliments now." Juno chuckles.

"Maybe I am."

"Well then," Juno says, "I'll bite. I do think they're sharp. Just like all of you is sharp...and handsome."

Nureyev doesn't smile as much as he softly bares teeth, "I know what you think of the sharpness," he teases.

This time he's ready when Juno pushes his chin away, and laughs.

"Come on," Juno says, taking a step back, "You take care of everything below the waist, the faster we get clean the faster we can go to bed."

Peter steps forward, reaching for Juno's hips, "Or we could..."

"The hell did I just say? I shouldn't have to explain this Nureyev, I'm  _ tired _ and I'm  _ hurting _ . What's gotten into you today?"

"I'm not- I don't-"

Juno discards his pants and sits on the closed toilet lid, throwing a leg over the edge of the tub, "I said earlier, you can tell me in your own time, but whatever this is, it  _ keeps _ coming up. I'm worried, Nureyev." 

Peter deflates, "I know, I just-" he cuts himself off with a sigh.

“Just worry about getting clean.” 

Nureyev sits on the other edge of the tub, moping to himself. Juno focuses on getting clean, and after a beat, Nureyev does the same. They relax into the silence, and Pete begins to hum an unfamiliar tune. It feels safe. 

Juno finishes first, and Peter turns to watch as he leaves the bathroom, grabbing two night gowns and underwear for the both of them. Peter is still looking over his shoulder when Juno comes back in. Juno smiles at him, and he seems satisfied, turning back to mutter about whether shaving is worth his time. 

Juno gets changed, and then turns to Peter, speaking a brief warning before he throws the nightgown over his head, guiding Peter’s arms through the armholes with a gentle hand. He brushes his teeth while Peter finishes getting cleaned and changed, and then rests against Peter’s back while Peter brushes his teeth in turn. The ordeal is a little more complicated for Nureyev, who checks for cracks and bits that are too sharp for even his comfort. When all comes up okay, he accepts a minty kiss. 

It’s when Juno pulls him towards their bed by the wrist that Peter stops dead. 

“Juno, I think we should talk.” 

“Okay,” Juno says, turning to sit on the mattress. Peter visibly flinches when he hits the sheets, “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t get into that bed-I can’t- I jus-”

“Hey,” Juno says, running his hand down the length of Peter’s arm, “I’m not judging you, just talk to me, it’s alright.”

Nureyev sniffles, and only then does Juno realize he’s  _ crying _ . When Peter speaks, his voice is so soft, it’s barely there, “The last time I got into a hotel bed with you, you- you-”

“I left,” Juno realizes. 

Peter only responds with a sob. 

“Nureyev,” Juno whispers. He stands, guiding Peter into him with a hand cradling the back of his skull. Peter grabs the front of Juno’s shirt. He lets himself cry, and Juno gives him time to. It hurts him, to know that Peter still suffers from the things he did months, maybe years ago now. He knows it wasn’t a mistake, that maybe he could have communicated  _ more _ and  _ better _ but leaving in the first place was a necessary evil. An evil Juno doesn’t have the privilege of paying for himself. 

Instead, he gets to watch Nureyev suffer.

“I’m here,” He coos, “I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. I promise you. Even if I have to leave sometimes, know that it isn't now. It isn’t soon and it isn’t by choice. I will always come back to you.” 

Nureyev presses his nose into Juno’s skin, “Should we pick a lighthouse, then?”

“Sure Nureyev,” He runs his fingers through Peter’s hair, “If I ever lose you I’ll go back to that godforsaken city, meet me at my old office. That’s enough to show you how badly I don’t want to lose you, if it means I have to go back there."

Juno can feel Peter’s smile against his skin, he smiles in turn. 

“Here, help me pull the sheet off this mattress.”

“Dear? What are we doing?”

“We’re sleeping on the floor. Come on, that corner looks comfy enough.” 

The smile that erupts on Nureyev’s face then makes the sun look pale. 

They fall asleep with their knees tucked to their chests, leaning onto one another side-by-side, hand-in-hand. They cover themselves with a blanket, and the last thing Peter whispers before he slips into sleep is, “I can only see you.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed my first posted fic in TPP!!! I have some others I haven't posted yet, but I love all the characters so, so much. I can't wait to write more for them! Only junoverse so far, as I still need to listen to the second citadel.
> 
> Comments and Kudos are ALWAYS appreciated, each and every one!


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